


Uncannily Familiar

by LissyStage



Category: Original Work
Genre: Camp Nanowrimo, Coming of Age, Gen, Gender Identity, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4256742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LissyStage/pseuds/LissyStage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe in which reincarnation, unbeknownst to a majority of the Earth's population, is a thing of science rather than lore, fifteen-year old Andrew Foster finds himself in over his head upon his discovery that no one is ever truly alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncannily Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> **Rating** : T (applicable to change)
> 
> **Author's Note** : Urgh, first long original fiction for Camp NaNo. Urgh. I apologize. First day: 2106.

_There was a boom, a discordant dissonance off in the near-distance. She strained her ears in the darkness, trying to locate the sound, but it was too difficult to track exactly where it may have come from. Instead, she had to rely on steady guesswork to approximate what direction it had come from, based purely on what it was, head turning._

_Deep breath, exhale, each as shakily as the other. Her back settled quietly against the cool, dampness of a wall she'd felt for with her hands, wary for whatever may be there, lurking, waiting for her. Sweat slid from her temple to the tip of her left eye, dampening her glasses with strength of her exhalations, though she couldn't very well see anyway. It was much too dark for that._

_And then there came a shriek, and…_

_"Boo," murmured it._

* * *

Andy tossed and turned in his bed upon waking, before finally sitting up and covering his face with his hands, rubbing at his eyelids. The dredges of the dream he could barely remember as it was slowly slid from his mind as he became aware of the painful truth: he had school later on that morning.

Tragic, it was, and even more so that he had to suffer yet another boring science class later on that same morning. Biology, he thought, would be so much easier if he actually cared for the differences between eukaryotes, prokaryotes and all that other really dull jazz.

He collapsed back on his bed and threw his hand up on his nightstand, fingers locating his cellphone in a matter of seconds. Lifting the device up above his head, Andy switched the screen's power on and squinted at the time displayed in bright, white characters at the center: half-past three in the morning. Great. Just what he needed, another excuse to nearly sleep through his science class.

He was so sick of school and its shit by now, that he contemplated shutting his phone off entirely and pretending to sleep through most of the morning until just after the bus had already left his stop. The idea was so desirous, like a scantily-clad seductress at the dead of night, beckoning him forward with promises of happiness and satisfaction. But it was also, unfortunately, something he couldn't really go through with. His mother would be pissed if he did, especially because he was an awful liar and the both of them knew it.

Closing his eyes, Andy tried his best to ward away any and all thoughts of school in an effort to allow his mind the ability to float away on a thick cloud, hovering pleasantly between wakefulness and sleep.

It was only twenty minutes later that he sighed, swiped a hand across his face again, and decided to go for a much-needed run. Hate exercise, he did, but at least he would get something somewhat productive done for his physical health. And possibly exhaust himself enough that he'd fall back to sleep. Maybe. Hopefully.

He pulled on an old pair of sweatpants, threw on his hoodie, and tied on his sneakers in a matter of a few seconds, before remembering to locate his own set of the house keys and leaving the house.

Minutes soon stretched into half an hour. He felt that same cloud of frustration lift from him with a contentment that could only be found with a strenuous activity, such as this. Even if he did hate that same strenuous activity with a passion. Straining for breath wasn't his idea of a good time, after all.

It was when he was rounding the corner of the street on his familiar route back home that he registered a weird, achy feeling at his right temple. The sensation seemed to travel to the left-side of his head slowly, at the rate of a snail, as he ran faster, before disappearing just as quickly as it had mysteriously appeared.

Pausing in his run, panting breaths in his ears, Andy shook his head slightly before running a single hand through his short dirty blond locks. That had been really weird, he mused to himself, making a mental note to tell his mom about the strange occurrence later on that morning.

It wasn't until later on, when Andy's head had finally hit the pillow after showering upon his return to home, that he thought about the dream he had had earlier that morning.

When he next woke, it was to his shoulder being shaken steadily by a damp hand.

"Andy," his mother called. "You're going to be late for school unless you get up."

Andy chose at that moment to mentally flip the bird at school, because screw it, and feigned sleep for a good few minutes, to which his mother sighed and left him alone in his room with the finality of a shut door. Well, up until she reappeared and tipped a splash of freezing cold water on his forehead.

He shot up like a weed, scrambling away from evil incarnate; aka, his mother. She held a small cup of water in her hand, the other hand balanced on her hip with an unimpressed expression on her face.

"Really, Mom?" he veritably howled, eyes focused on her hand with the wariness of a spooked animal. " _Really_?"

"Really," she nodded her head, taking a swig of her weapon of mass destruction.

"You couldn't've, I don't know, threatened me like a normal person?"

She raised an eyebrow at his usage of the word "normal", but said no more, instead choosing to exit the room as swiftly as she had entered it.

Just when he was wondering what the consequences of willfully disobeying her implied command would be, she poked her head through his open doorway and said, "Unless you want me to bring in an entire bucketful of ice water, you better get dressed and ready for school."

Well, that certainly answered his question, he thought to himself, standing up from his bed and grunting at the soreness of his muscles. Yeah, he really should've stretched before falling back asleep after his run earlier that morning.

It was that remembrance that coaxed back the memory of the weird feeling he'd had in the middle of his exercise. The ache that had traveled from his right to left temple… it had been eerie, to say the least. Not something he usually experienced when out running. Or doing anything, in fact.

"Hey, Mom," Andy called out after brushing his teeth and washing his face.

"Yeah?" she answered from somewhere in the house, probably her bedroom, trying her best to get some, much-needed, shuteye.

"Never mind," Andy shook his head at no one in particular, buttoning up his shirt in the process.

Checking the time on his phone, he hurried up in his dressing and raced down the hallway, his phone secure in his pocket and backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Bye, Mom!" he shouted out in farewell, stepping into his shoes and leaving the house.

He heard her respond in kind right before the door closed behind him.

* * *

 

"Andrew!"

Andy stopped in his tracks at the familiar voice and turned around, flashing a bright grin at the visage of his health science teacher.

"Miss Garcia," he replied in greeting, readjusting the strap of his bookbag on his right shoulder. "Morning."

"Good morning," she smiled kindly, arms clutching a huge pile of papers and folders. "How are you?"

"Ehh," he said, hand raised and rocked side to side. "It's going. And you?"

"My morning has been a bit hectic, as you can probably see by the enormous load I'm carrying," she chuckled good-naturedly, causing Andy to laugh in kind. "Now, where are you off to?"

"My locker," Andy answered, eying the verifiable load his teacher was carrying. "Do you want help, or…?"

"If you wouldn't mind," she said too quickly. Andy looked at her oddly, though she didn't seem to realize it, so focused was she on handing a bunch of the papers to Andy. Once he had the procured bundle cradled in his own arms, she sighed with relief and thanked him profusely for offering her a hand in such a time of great need.

The two of them headed to her classroom, where a few students were hanging out near the door, gabbing about this and that. They greeted her cheerily, seemingly happy when she responded, and continued on whatever topic was causing one of them to giggle so loudly.

"Thank you, again, Andrew," she thanked as he held the door open for her to step through. She placed the load on her desk with an audible thud, and virtually collapsed in her chair.

Andy just nodded his head and handed his own portion of the pile to her.

"Oh, Andrew," she called out before he could exit the classroom. He turned in response.

"Yes, Miss Garcia?"

"Remember that project I assigned a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah," he nodded his head.

"How are you progressing?"

"It's going great," he forced a smile at her, wishing to get away before she could further question him on the damned thing. He hadn't even started it, yet.

"Well, that's a relief," she smiled back. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you've accomplished."

"Thanks, Miss Garcia," he said, raising a hand in farewell. "See you later."

"You, too," she said.

Andy breathed a sigh of relief once he'd exited the classroom and checked his phone, again. The first bell was due to ring in just a few, short minutes, and he hadn't even gathered his things for his first four periods.

It was on his way to his locker that he spotted his friend, Krista, surrounded by a bunch of her own friends, near one of the water fountains. She waved him over after meeting his gaze, and Andy was forced to consider how much time he actually had to socialize. Ten minutes to the first bell. Urgh, he thought to himself. Screw school, anyway.

"Hi," she said upon his appearance at her side, standing near a dude named Tony. A few of her other friends waved to Andy in greeting, and he recognized them from a few of the classes he shared with them.

"Hey, how are you?" he asked her, pointedly not sneaking a glance at his phone's clock. "And the arm?"

She held up her cast with a small, self-depreciative smile. "Fine. Nothing a bit of time won't heal up. How about you?"

"Mom poured water on me when I refused to wake up this morning."

She laughed at him, head tilted back, shoulders shaking at the force of it all. He frowned at her.

"What are you laughing for, you bitch?"

"Dude, your mom is hilarious," she shook her head, her bangs resting awkwardly against her forehead. "Maybe if you appreciated her humor a bit more, you'd laugh as much as I do at the shit she pulls."

"Sure," Andy rolled his eyes. "She is  _so_  funny. And I'm a monkey's uncle."

He stood there awkwardly for a few moments after that, the conversation dying a quick, sudden death, before fishing his phone out of his pocket and checking the time, again.

"Oh, shit," he murmured. "I need to get to my locker before the bell rings. See ya during third."

"Bye, Andy," she called after him.

He merely waved his hand back in reply.

When he got to his locker, that feeling from earlier that morning returned, except kicked up slightly in intensity. He leaned against it, head resting on the cool metal of the enclosure, and waited for the sensation to pass. If these sudden bursts of whatever continued for longer, he'd have to tell his mom about them. They were too weird not to.

What if he was going to die from some sort of latent aneurysm, due to how long it was taking him to even talk about them? What if Death were peeking just around the corner, right this second, waiting for the right moment to jump out and scare him?

'Boo,' the thought came to mind, and with it a rush of clarity: a darkly clad figure, reaper mask all that's memorable of its appearance, scythe in hand, the sound of its laughter like nails on a chalkboard, long and rasping. Sort of like the Scream in appearance. He felt goosebumps run up and down his arms at that as he shivered at what felt akin to déjà vu.

Clutching at his jacket sleeves, Andy soon came to the realization that, not only was that odd temporal sensation gone, but the first bell was already ringing.

' _Dammit_.'


End file.
